


Crawl Under Your Skin

by phrenique



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Menstrual Sex, with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrenique/pseuds/phrenique
Summary: "Underneath his forehead, beneath her skin, a heat wave’s been building in Rey's lower belly, smoothing and constricting, pushing and pulling on elastic tendrils. Kylo can pinpoint the exact moment when it shatters."





	Crawl Under Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchoil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchoil/gifts).



> This fic was written for the prompt:
> 
> "Rey and Kylo/Ben experience some form of bodyswapping through the Force (whether they fully swap locations or just share awareness/inhabitation of each other's bodies is up to you), and at no time is this more likely to happen than when they're getting physically intimate. Whether it happens by surprise or design, they end up going at it at while Rey is on her period and both experience aspects being the person with a bleeding uterus and the person not."
> 
> I found writing this fic challenging in a very pleasant way. I’ve also learned new things, important things, in the way of researching for it, so firstly, I wanted to thank you for your prompt, witchoil. I dearly hope the fic is to your liking and that you enjoy it!

Only a cloth drapery hangs over the arch of Rey’s doorway, keeping the world out. They’d initially offered her a red silky one, but she’d refused it, asking instead for a black one with a heavy thread. One that would prove a burden to draw aside in any visitor’s hand. Like some sort of silent alarm, she could thus sense in the Force the spike in energy expended.

People, Rey’s friends, would command her ingenuity and foresight, if they knew about it. In the Resistance, one lives under the mantle of secrecy, especially now, when their steps - her steps - are dogged by an enraged and partially decapitated First Order. One needs to be careful, even among friends. That’s not the reason she chose it, though.

The reason is sat upon the edge at the feet of her narrow bunk, crouching forward, naked skin stretching for ages over his long, sturdy bones, watching her like a Loth-wolf might its prey.

She doesn’t shiver under his heated gaze. She used to in the beginning. 

Anticipation drifts and builds slowly in the air between them and around them, like a storm cloud stocking up on static energy. They don’t move, the tease is half the pleasure. Especially with their senses fully-opened and half-delirious with the flow of the Living Force surrounding them, feeding from them.

Kylo is the one who finally breaks, placing his big hands upon her ankles and sliding them slowly upwards. Rey sits still, enjoying his thoughtful exploration of her skin as if it were for the first time. She had thought, back then, before she first took him into her, that he’d be a rash and demanding lover, for his blood that burned so fiercely and his mind, that constant fiery battlefield. She’s since learned better.

The quiet, bone-deep devotion he harbors for her tempers the eagerness of the still-unsettled young man within Kylo, leaving only a caring and passionate lover in Rey’s arms.

She’s wrenched away from her memories by the soft, wet touch of Kylo’s open mouth, tracing the border that separates her bare skin from the fabric of her pant leg, just below her left knee. Her eyes get caught in his, and there’s a curl to the corners of his lips that she can feel like a twitch into her own. 

He loves to find her clothed, when he comes to her, she knows this. He will take off each item of her garb, unveiling her to his gaze, tormenting and pleasing himself with the promise of her naked body, freely placed in his care.

* * *

When Kylo comes to her, he’s always naked, safe behind the duralium-enforced heavy door that bars the entry to his room. He hasn’t taken other quarters, more befitting his new station, even confronted with the pressure of Hux’s demands he do so. He won’t allow himself to lie, under his generals’ surveillance, in a strange bed, and have his every move scrutinized in search of an opening through which one could thrust a knife at his back.

And he wouldn’t get to have these stolen moments with Rey then. Kylo reassures himself that’s not the main cause behind his reasoning.

Rey waits for him, seated on her bed, which a lifetime ago was his own. Tonight, they’ll share it again, sleep in it, skin against skin, galaxy-apart but united by the will of their Force bond. 

Kylo never gets tired of watching her, breathing her in. 

She doesn’t flinch away from his nakedness, from his intensity. Her blood rises high in her cheeks, but she doesn’t move towards him. He can sense the tension building in the muscles of her back as she strains to keep still, to wait him out.

Touching her eases them both. He runs his hands over her calves, his face hovering just above her legs, as he listens intently to the slight rasp of his rubbing fingers on her bare skin. When he can’t take it anymore, he puts his mouth on her leg. That certainly focuses her attention, and Kylo feels her vibrating under his lips, like his lightsaber does under his hold. 

Rey’s smiling faintly, but her heart betrays her. It’s pumping blood furiously towards all the places where they currently touch. He continues his excursion upwards, exploring with his fingers, feeling the welcome weight of her flesh settle against his palms. His mouth’s purpose is higher; it waters at the thought.

Where the inside of her thighs meet and join, at her core, the cloth is thinner and already starting to soak through. Kylo’s only speeding the process, he thinks to himself feverishly, as he opens his mouth wider and fits it to her covered sex.

Rey’s arms stretch out to reach him and her hands tangle in his hair. Tremors surge in wave upon wave from her spine down her thighs till they reach the tops of her bare feet. They feel like electricity arcs shattering within his own veins.

She wants to be naked now, no more games, no more teasing, her voice’s loud and clear across their bond. He likes it slow, he volleys back to her. Her cupped fingers tighten to the point of pain over Kylo’s ears and quiet reigns within their shared mind for one harmonious heartbeat. 

Then Rey takes matters into her hands as she rips up her tunic herself, throws it in tatters to the floor, and dares him to do something about it. Alright, no more games, Kylo projects at her as he begins tearing methodically into her pants. Her underclothes suffer the same fate. In the end, he drops the whole sorry lot to the floor.

The very next second, his mouth closes over her again. Rey’s gasps nearly turn to shouts, before she remembers the flimsy barrier that separates their small world from the bulk of the Resistance descending on them like justice on a sinner’s head.

Kylo shakes off the tinge of regret even before it’s fully formed. In time, he’s learned that he’d rather have Rey on her terms than not at all. He counts his meager revenge in making her tremble beneath him as he escalates his intimate conquest of her most fragile flesh. Drenched in her arousal, her sex is dripping and Kylo recoils from the echo of it, at the root of his own and at its tip all at once. Pressure gathers almost painfully between his thighs, pooling in an inexistent hollow aching to be filled.

To distract himself from this sweetest of torments, Kylo forces all his attention on her. He flicks and lashes his tongue rhythmically against the small nub high cresting her seam, lingering on every stroke. It feels plumper than usual in his mouth, like a piece of hardened-sugar treat from his long-ago childhood. Kylo worries at it, deeply suckling, in a futile attempt to melt it, get at its center. 

His lips throb not only from his own efforts, but also from the way she’s biting at her own, so harshly he can taste the hint of blood blooming on his tongue. Drawn on by it, a shift, a twist forms at the back of his mind. It slithers smoothly downward to coil around Kylo’s cock, as if Rey had all of a sudden curled her hand tightly around him. He takes the kickback straight to his chest, violently dislodging his held-in breath. The grip mellows, then tenses again.

His sharp inhale is renewed before it’s even spent, as some instinct inside rears its head back like a wolf having caught its prey’s trail. He nuzzles Rey’s sex, licks thoroughly the fleshy folds, flutters his tongue just inside of her, hunting for the trace of what he can’t yet define. Her musky dampness tastes deeper, darker, richer and Kylo can’t get enough of it. His engorged cock throbs and aches with the need to have her; he leaves it untouched.

The constant pressure of her taut walls feels even heavier, needier. Her whole body feels like it’s weighing and yielding at the same, poised sweetly on his tongue. Underneath his forehead, beneath her skin, a heat wave’s been building in Rey’s lower belly, smoothing and constricting, pushing and pulling on elastic tendrils. Kylo can pinpoint the exact moment when it shatters. The salty tang sharpens inside his mouth, coats his lips and he licks them unconsciously. Oh, he thinks, oh, so that’s it. That’s what her body’s been hiding from him. 

But the switch of realization gets flipped in both their minds. 

Rey turns into a storm unleashed under him, beating her fists against his arms, her strong legs flexing, trying to lift him off her. She’s panicking. She’s running, her thoughts trying to disentangle from his, trying to evade him, and that he can’t allow. 

Head still resting on her belly, he stops making love to her. He breathes deeply, steadily and wills his heart to settle down in his chest. He opens up completely to her, mentally kneels at her feet and waits. Rey’s response comes swiftly; she relaxes instinctively, body and mind. The Force bond is still a constant flow, moving freely between them, intact and perfect, connecting them completely. 

He’s showing his full hand, making his mind and body known to her, willing to accept any decision.

Seconds pass in the unified near-silence of Rey’s small chamber and Kylo’s quarters with only by the mingling sounds of their breaths echoing each other. A distant wave rises from her side of the bond and breaks on the shores of his consciousness. Love, that impossible word!

Then, Rey’s fingers sneak down to cup the back of his head and he lets her drive his movement forward, get them slowly back into their rhythm of lovemaking. There’s sweet irony that the lazier pace spends Kylo’s patience quicker, eroding the base of his self-restraint. He gets a hand around his cock, firmly fists it, drags himself away from the brink.

She’s constantly squirming beneath him now, moaning softly and tugging on his hair so hard his scalp burns like it’s on fire. He closes his eyes and her vision kicks in. Kylo sees himself, head buried in the juncture of her legs; her hands holding reins, shockingly pale on the backdrop of dark ropy tresses; his naked, glistening back, bunching and releasing, moving his shoulders like boulders to stack against her legs to keep her open and at the mercy of his mouth, his tongue, his lips.

Kylo looks like a man possessed, like a man debauched, ravenous in his exploration, in his conquest of her, licking and sucking and drinking her in. Her fluids drench his chin, running languidly past his lips, the iron taste getting stronger bit by bit. He opens his senses even more, tugs at the strands connecting him to Rey’s mind, entreating her to come deeper within.

* * *

Rey knows Kylo. Intimately. She’s been beyond his Force-weaved soul, down to his flesh-muscle-and-bone body, and inside the galaxies of neurons sparking in his brain. 

But knowing is so very different from experiencing. And Kylo is something else. 

Something more than she’d ever imagined during the long nights in the desert cold, when the only hands that touched her, on her breasts, between her legs, were her own. Something she’s accepted past any doubt no other man could be for her. Because what they share goes beyond bodies.

She doesn’t call it love. Out loud to someone else, it would be impossible, and in her mind, well, Kylo’s always there. So, they don’t call it love, but she doesn’t know any other suitable word. It colors everything, it changes everything.

Tonight, when he puts his mouth on her, working her still-clothed cunt wet, the usual scream longs to be born inside her chest, the one she needs to stifle. Rey’s body already feels like it’s on fire, and they’ve barely begun. She wants to bite down on something to help contain herself, but her hands can’t seem to release their grip on Kylo’s curls; she settles for her lips and wishes they were his.

And he’s definitely the most infuriating man she’s ever met! Slow, when she’s halfway there? He’s bringing her along in his mind, so she can feel everything. The near-painful stretch of his generous mouth on her, the impetus of his tongue licking leisurely and pushing shallowly into her through the now sodden material, again and again, the muscles of his high cheekbones hollowing to…Maddening!

She mentally curses at him, and when that leaves him teasing instead of obedient, Rey takes things into her own hands. Her shirt gets thrown, ripped to threads, on the ship’s floor, and soon the rest of her clothing joins the pile: done at his hands, and she claims sweet victory. A second later, she nearly brings the whole Resistance on their heads, as he clamps his dangerous mouth over her now bare cunt and, clearly, the torment’s just begun.

Kylo’s steadily losing himself in his exploration of her, but Rey’s already lost. She feels full, throbbing like some giant exposed nerve. Her raw lips sting from the constant biting down. Her arms and legs shake minutely and cramp with the effort to keep still. She wants it to be over and she wants it to last forever.

There’s something unnamed building within her, growing, expanding, from her belly up towards her breasts, down to her cunt. The pressure pulls at her, tries to push her from her own skin at the same time, makes her restless and daring.

Tightening her hold rhythmically on Kylo’s dark curls, she sends a thought, an impression through their bond. It makes him tremble, but not quit his endeavor to drive her slowly mad. Rey trembles along with him, as the thought shifts, solidifies into being and when she next grips fistfuls of his hair, she feels the echo of her hand on his cock, tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing.

He’s shuddering between her thighs, momentarily stymied, gulping down air thirstily. The pressure builds and builds inside of Rey, unsatisfied, swelling in her breasts, pulsing in her cunt.

It breaks, finally, slickly slithering down, and Rey realizes what’s happening, a shiver of a second later than Kylo. Kylo who doesn’t stop working her, suckling at her, licking his lips.

Panicking, she shoves at him, trying to dislodge his mouth from where, from where… from where she’s bleeding. Her heart’s racing wildly, chased by an unknown shadow, and she nearly trips over her own thoughts, trying to flee from everything, even Kylo, even from the unquestionable safety of their bond. 

He lets her go and he doesn’t. His arms curve in an unbroken embrace surrounding her middle, but they don’t stifle. His head puts a steady pressure on her belly that doesn’t overpower. His mind, oh, his mind is beautiful!

There’s peace there and so much beauty in his readiness to accept everything and anything of her, mentally and bodily. From the unyielding background of his mental landscape, Rey sees herself rising, a tall figure made of light, clean and pure and perfect. It’s how Kylo sees her, Kylo who knows her better than anyone else, even herself. Tears come unbidden to her eyes, and she smiles through them.

If she chooses to stop here, frightened by too much newness, then he’ll accept it and she feels the comforting weight of this inflexible truth. He wants her, in all the ways he can have her. But the way he longs for her, for every part of her, however minute, for every experience that makes Rey what she is; it would frighten her if she didn’t feel the exact same. Love, she whispers, and the strings that tie them together quiver, echoing the word back to him.

Rey takes hold again of the back of his head, guides it down. Her senses are open and reeling from the near-unbearable joy and hunger he’s flooding the bond with. 

They move gently, careful with each other, careful with what they’re building up to. 

Kylo cups himself uncaringly tight, fucks his fist in a punishing rhythm as he sucks sweetly on her clit. She takes hold of his grip, pushes him away mentally, changes the pressure, draws it out. They’re teasing each other. Both moan in shared torment, and the sound swells and bursts in both Kylo’s quarters and Rey’s berth. They don’t stop.

The phantom weight of his cock slides perfectly against Rey’s palm, a strong, solid heat. She curls Kylo’s fingers tighter against it, rotates them in a screwing motion, softly, then quickly, then quicker still. She swirls her fingertip through the viscous wetness gathering around his slit. 

Kylo changes hands, puts a couple of the seed-slick fingers inside his mouth and sucks on them and her clit at the same time. Their tastes surge together inside Rey’s mouth, iron and strong salt combining and dissolving on her tongue. The feel of it makes her tremble from head to toe, in big rolling shivers, even if her skin feels hotter and tighter than it’s ever been on Jakku. A second later, she feels Kylo shudder as the waves crash on his shoulders too. 

He holds on, then rising his head, he looks at her as he firmly pushes a couple of gentle fingers inside her throbbing cunt. The orgasm wrenches through both of them like lightning burning through twinned trees, and they scream into each other’s minds. They fall against the bed, extinguished.

Blood gushes, freely at last, from between Rey’s legs, drips and spreads soundlessly on her white sheets, soaks through Kylo’s utilitarian bed coverings. His fingers touch the red stains in awe, and lower, they sweep through the pearly mess he’s left behind. He paints his mouth with their mixed essences, then licks it all off thoughtfully.

“Rey?” He finally says as he moves to cover her body with his own. “Love?” His soul’s watching her through his eyes. 

She smiles, “Love,” and takes the offer of his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
